


Finery

by kisssanitygoodbye, moodymarshmallow



Series: Like Attracts Like [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisssanitygoodbye/pseuds/kisssanitygoodbye, https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fabian finally finds a reason to keep that horrid Amell finery around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finery

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Moodymarshmallow

From the first time he found it in his wardrobe, Fabian hated the maroon and purple finery. It didn’t help that Leandra loved it, cooing over the intricately sewn Amell crest on the breast every time she saw him in it, telling him how handsome he was, and how much he resembled his father. She meant well, sure, but the last thing he wanted was to constantly be reminded of Malcolm, who would have understood his disdain for the silk pajamas far more than Leandra did. So he kept the garments in the storage chest in his room, instead electing to wear things he had purchased for himself.

But time passes, and things change, and his opinion on the finery had changed as of late, a phenomenon that had little to do with the clothes themselves, but was instead inspired by the one wearing them. It had been genius to offer them to Theron when he first came by, even if he hadn’t realized how delicious the contrast of dark silk on soft pale skin would be. He couldn’t have known that Theron would come back then either, or that he’d take the finery and return with it smelling like fresh air and sea spray, and always, always like him. If any perfumer could bottle that scent, Fabian would have bought their entire stock.

Theron was on his bed again, on his belly, his face buried into one of the over-plush pillows. His long, pale legs were bare, and Fabian could trace the length of them with his eyes to meet the hem of the finery where it rested on his thighs. Silk was unforgiving, honest, and the smooth fall of fabric over Theron’s pert little arse said that there was nothing underneath but skin. That was all it took now—not that it would have taken much anyway; Theron was gorgeous in the way of elves, thin and fine-boned, his delicate ears twitching slightly at the sound of Fabian’s feet on the wood floor. He peeked over his shoulder, all red, dark red, his face serene though his eyes caught the fire, and a small, private smile tugged on the corner of his lips when Fabian came closer.

“I’m beginning to think you don’t have anything else to wear,” Fabian said. The mattress sank under his weight when he sat down, and Theron adjusted himself to keep from rolling into him. The finery shifted too, and there was now a tantalizing glimpse of Theron’s pale thigh exposed. Fabian laid his hand on the back of Theron’s knee, slowly trailing it upwards. “If you’re so hard up, maybe I could buy you something else, hmm?”   
  
Theron only smiled, but he could speak volumes with a smile and the tilt of a head. Fabian had learned to read him, to know what every quirk of his lips meant, to notice the subtleties and differences in his expressions. Most of all, he now understood that Theron would talk if and when he wanted to, and that no cajoling would change whether or not he was in the mood to speak.

Fabian smiled back—though it was more of a self-satisfied smirk—when he ran his hand under the hem of his finery and over Theron’s bare arse. Theron wriggled, arching his back and tilting his pelvis to raise his hips. Fabian slipped that hand between his legs, watching Theron sigh and close his eyes when Fabian reached under him to find him hard, waiting and wanting.   
  
“You don’t think of anything else, do you?” Fabian teased, though the rapid rush of blood to his cock made it difficult for him to pass judgement. “I’ve got nobles to placate, a city to keep running, and you just come around when you want my cock.” Fabian lifted the silk off of Theron’s arse, letting it pool against the small of his back instead as he gave one of those round cheeks a good squeeze.   
  
Theron laughed. “You make it sound like I’m using you. Tell me, Hawke, how  _hard_  is it when I’m gone? It pains me to think of you here all by your lonesome, without anyone to blame for your desires.” His voice was muffled when Fabian shoved him down, holding his arms with hands tight around his wrists,   
  
“Nobody told you to leave.” Fabian’s mouth was on Theron’s ear, and it would only be a moment until the elf was quivering, whimpering, having lost all composure to the sharp pain of teeth and the soothing warmth of tongue. “Why don’t you stay right here and I’ll show you just how  _hard_  it can be.” A shove of his hips against Theron’s arse punctuated the word, and when a strangled groan escaped Theron’s lips, it was more than enough to push them over playful and into needy.   
  
Fabian released Theron’s arms and slid back, lips on his neck, smelling him more than kissing him, feeling the brush of silk and skin against his lips and in his cock. They’d go slow; they’d fuck until dawn, until Theron couldn’t hold his body up anymore, and Fabian was so spent that he had nothing left to give. Eager, anticipating, Theron reached underneath himself to grab the hem of the finery, but when he started tugging it upwards, Fabian stopped him, hands firm on his wrists.   
  
“No. Leave it on.”


End file.
